


Three to Tango

by megyal



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:31:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for smallfandomfest,  for the prompt "ex-wife finds out".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three to Tango

The apartment door opened and the first thing that Matt thought was _ah fucking shit, this is so not happening right now_ as he gripped the handle. The woman on the other side had her hair done in tasteful waves, a muted brown with streaks of blonde and grey; dressed in a neat grey suit, she was obviously all business as she stared at him with a forthright brown gaze.

Matt was well acquainted with that kind of look. Lucy had stared at him like that when they had first met, as if he was virus or something that had tripped up her normal operating procedures.

"Holly," he breathed out, more to himself than anything else; she looked different from the family-photo John still kept on a shelf over the television, with her hair less curly and faint lines at the corners of her eyes. Holly Gennaro twitched her eyebrows at him.

"Yes," she answered wryly and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

Matt stepped aside, saying, "Oh, sorry, I'm making you stand out there like the Avon lady. I'm Matt, by the way, Matt Farrell. John's in the bathroom, but he'll be out in a minute... so, what? Tea? Coffee? Overly caffeinated mystery juice in a can?"

Holly made a sharp motion with her hand, as if to cut off the flow of his words with the edge of her palm; her expression appeared slightly annoyed, bemused and intrigued at the same time. "Matthew Farrell. You were with John and Lucy during all that... mess."

"Right! That's... you're right. The mess that's _still_ happening. Uh, it must have been super-hard for you to get all the way up here, with everything still disorganized and stuff." Matt felt like a huge dork as he laughed nervously, but he couldn't help it. Holly's gaze felt like an x-ray to his soul and in the back of his mind he wondered if she ever considered being a cop like her ex-husband. She'd be great at it, honestly; he felt like spilling all the beans he ever had as she considered him in that probing manner.

"Thank you," Holly said, keeping her hands clasped together in front. Her purse was tucked underneath her arm and she looked so well put-together, so competent and collected, that Matt couldn't breathe for a minute. She looked like someone that John needed right now, someone organized and practical. "You helped save my daughter's life."

"I..." Matt blinked and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "Yeah. Um. Sure, no problem."

She smiled at him; it was warm, wide smile and it changed her face completely. "You were with John. I'm sure it was a lot more problem than you signed up for."

The weight of their history, that memory-filled past between John and Holly, hit him like one of those cartoon anvils. They'd been married for _years_ and she probably knew things about John that Matt couldn't even fathom. They had two kids to cement their bond and as much as John didn't like to talk about her, there was a tenderness in his face when he _did_.

"Hey there," John said from behind him and without turning around, Matt knew that the harsh lines of his face were softened out. Matt kept his eyes on Holly, who was gazing over his shoulder with a tight smile on her face.

"John," she answered crisply, but a fond exasperation curled around the words, as if she fully expected that there would be explosions happening somewhere soon in their vicinity, just because John was in her line of sight. Her gaze flickered back to Matt's face and her eyes narrowed at whatever she found there. Matt glanced away.

"You met Farrell," John rumbled, a simple statement. Out of the corner of his eye, Matt could see Holly incline nod once, curt and refined. "Good."

"I'm gonna... I have something to do, so. Yeah." Matt tried not to limp as he went back to the bedroom, but his knee complained loudly all the way. "Nice to meet you," he muttered, giving Holly a quick, wavering smile.

"You too, Matthew," Holly answered, sounding just like his _mother_ , and Matt made good his escape.

As he sat in front of the computer, he heard their voices through the wall, Holly's quick and John's calm and low. Matt breathed out slowly, and tried to concentrate on this project that the Fibbies had pushed at him, and tried not to think about them outside there, talking about fuck-knows-what.

After a few minutes of conversation, he heard the front door close and John came back inside the bedroom, sighing. Matt didn't look up, but he heard John spreading the bed, smoothing the crumpled sheets and straightening the pillows. There was a long pause and suddenly John was standing behind him, a hand heavy on his shoulder.

"McClane," Matt said in a complaining tone, "you're messing with my working vibe, go away."

"You okay?" John asked and Matt bit the inside of his lip. He shrugged and nodded; John gave him a brief squeeze and then, without warning, kissed him underneath his ear. Matt actually jumped and turned around to look up at him. John's expression was unreadable, so Matt couldn't find the reason for the sudden PDA; never mind that they were locked in the apartment together, it was Public because it was in the daytime and it was a Display because it had not been instigated by Matt, and it sure as hell was Affection because John didn't do shit like that, normally.

"Wha--"

"Holly says that we should all get together for Christmas dinner, up at her parents' house," John said mildly, and then went back out into the kitchen so that this particular bomb could have time to explode in Matt's brain; he let out a forceful breath through pursed lips, blowing the over-long strands of his hair out of his eyes.

"That... doesn't sound like a bad idea," Matt said loudly over the banging noises of the pots and pans; the hubbub stopped and Matt's fingers hovered nervously over the keyboard.

"Oh yeah. _Sure_ ," John sent back dryly. "It's a _great_ idea to have my ex-wife and this guy I'm... _with_ , in the same house as my former in-laws and kids." The pots began crashing again, the only way John knew how to do things.

Matt pondered this; he hadn't even realized that there had been a tight sensation in his chest until it began to unravel. _This guy I'm with_. Well... better than nothing.

"I still say it's a good idea," he called, chuckling as he heard John muttering underneath his breath.

*

The apartment door opened and Holly found herself being stared at by a young man with large brown eyes and dark hair that was in desperate need of a cut. He had the same look on his face when Jack had once poured paint over Lucy's dollhouse when they were kids, as if he was trying to look completely innocent. She took in the details of his face; there was something about him that was familiar.

"Holly," the man said quietly and Holly felt her eyebrows twitch almost against her will, moved by her curiosity over this person that had opened the door to John's place, this person who obviously knew who she was.

"Yes," she answered, tilting her head so she could inspect him even better. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

At that, the man burst into a flood of words, stepping aside so that she could come in out of the hallway. She only picked up his name and the fact that John was in the bathroom and he was already offering her something to drink when Holly snapped her hand in a motion that said _enough, already_. It worked on her co-workers when they kept up the inane chatter in her office and this Matt Farrell was no exception, because he folded his lips in and looked at her warily.

Matthew Farrell. Of course; she had seen him on the television with John. She had been in her office, a hand clasped into a fist between her breasts as she watched the reports coming in from the east, her heart in her throat not just because of John, but also because of _Lucy_. Her secretary had murmured to her, something about the phone-lines being down and not being able to get a flight out because of what was going on. And then, in just a few seconds, the image shaking on the screen, she had seen John and Lucy in the back of an ambulance and she nearly sagged to the ground. It was only through sheer force of will that she didn't lie down in her office and cry in relief.

"Thank you," Holly said to Matthew Farrell now, knowing that it was the same situation right about now; if she didn't reign herself in, she would just step over and hug him, and Matthew looked rattled enough. "You helped save my daughter's life."

Matthew blushed and stuttered something out; for a moment, Holly thought that it would be really nice if Lucy got together with this young man. Then she recalled that Lucy had taken the worst characteristics from herself and John, and decided that this Matthew would be better off without her.

She smiled at him now. "You were with John. I'm sure it was a lot more problem than you signed up for." _Trust me, kid,_ she thought to herself, _I know this as a fact._ Her therapist had told her that John had a hero complex, always jumping into situations that probably didn't warrant his presence but Holly didn't think so. John didn't like to be bothered too much and yet he just _attracted_ trouble; he probably had a sign on the back of his head. On top of that, John was more stubborn than she was, so he would struggle grimly in any setting. Hadn't he been the one to try and save their sinking marriage, even when Holly had known that there was really nothing left to save?

"Hey there," John said from the bedroom door, closing it quickly, but not before Holly noticed that the sheets of the bed were still crumpled. She didn't see any linen out on the living-room couch, where Farrell might sleep; and from the way Farrell looked, in a loose pajama pants and a t-shirt (both of which belonged to John), he had just gotten up out of bed.

"John." She tried not to smile as she greeted him, but no matter what, John was still John, even with his head bald like that. Same impassive face, same grim line of a mouth... but then she saw his gaze shift to one side to land on Matthew Farrell. She glanced at Matthew herself, and noticed the expression on his face; he looked like a person with a serious case of upset stomach. He looked... _stricken_ , even as John asked if they had met and Matthew claimed he had something to do, limping into the bedroom.

John's eyes were resting on him the whole time.

"Nice to meet you," Matthew muttered, not noticing how tense the line of John's shoulders were; he was obviously holding himself back from reaching out and holding onto Matthew before the younger man closed the door behind himself.

Like rocks, it all fell into place and she looked at John in frank astonishment. John actually appeared abashed for a moment, before his general smart-assery kicked in and he snapped, "What?"

"John," she said heavily, striding over to put her handbag on the small dining table. She folded her arms and shook her head. "John. My god. John."

"How many times are you going to say my name?" John came over and without warning, gathered her into his strong, dangerous arms. "Look, give me a goddamn hug."

"John, are you--? Never mind. How old is he?" Holly asked but she still hugged him, noting his warm, familiar scent. John gave her another quick squeeze before letting her go.

"Old enough," he said and damn it if he wasn't giving her a slight quirk of a smile, the same cocky curl that she had fallen in love with. She scowled at him, folding her arms again, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. Did they... in that _bed_ , did John and that Matthew Farrell--

"John. Apart from the fact that he's just a kid, he's... John, when in the world did you become attracted to the same sex?"

"Jesus, when you say it like _that_ ," John griped and then moved his shoulders in an exasperated shrug. "Hols, don't even ask me, because I don't even know myself. And it's not the entire same sex, just him. I think."

"You _think_." Holly closed her eyes briefly, wondering what she would do if her co-workers found out about this. Did Lucy know? Or Jack? How long had they been... together?

When she re-opened her eyes, John was gazing at her steadily, that same expression he'd had back at Nakatomi and on the tarmac at Dulles. It was the take-it-or-leave-it gaze and Holly tightened her lips.

"I don't approve," she told him, because they had never withheld anything from each other. "I don't, John."

"Fair enough." His smile was hard. "It's a good thing I don't need your approval anymore. Right, Hols?"

She shook her head and then shrugged. "I have to go," she said crisply, reaching for her purse again. "I just wanted to drop by before my meeting at head office. Take care, John." She spun on her heel and marched out purposefully, and then paused with her hand on the door. "You should come to Christmas dinner up by my parents. Mom is always complaining that you don't visit."

"And Matt." It wasn't a question, and Holly threw an annoyed look over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the determined glint in John's eyes.

"Fine. And Matt." She couldn't help a quick smile, because there was always a small part of her that would be in love with this bastard. "John, when are you ever going to be _normal_?"

"Never," he promised firmly, and it was written in _stone_ when he said it like that. Written in stone.

*

The apartment door closed, but John didn't allow himself to relax. For a moment, he just stood there, thinking about how fucking weird his life could get. He hadn't expected Holly at all, not before he had a chance to tell her about what was going on with Farrell; but hey, at least she didn't descend into that cutting coldness that had been her mainstay during the divorce. All things considering, it was far less dramatic than it could have been.

He wasn't going to fucking tempt fate with dinner at the Gennaro's, though.

He went back into the bedroom, spreading the bed neatly and listening to Matt's fingers tap on the keys of his computer, a sleek and black machine that the Feds had sent over. Matt could make that thing sing and dance, and John was forever bemused over it. At least, with systems still wobbly all over the place, the Feds had some use for him. John hesitated and then went over to the office chair he was perched on, placing a hand in the warm curve of his neck. He rubbed his thumb along the slight ridges of Matt's spinal column. John knew ways to properly break the bones there, and yet Matt sat there trustingly, letting his hand rest.

Well, for a moment anyway, for the kid complained that he was messing with his work-vibe; whatever the hell all those lines of numbers meant as work, anyway.

"You okay?" he asked and Matt's nod was jerky, like a puppet under the control of a drunk puppeteer. On impulse, he bent close and pressed his lips under Matt's ear; Matt jumped like John goosed him or something, turning to look up at him with eyes that were too large with anxiety. John wanted to tell him to stop the fucking worrying.

"Wha--"

"Holly says that we should all get together for Christmas dinner, up at her parents' house," John told him, because he couldn't find anything else to say, and then went back out into the kitchen. It was near lunch-time and although he was on leave, he wanted to go to the station, check in on the guys. They needed to eat before that, though, and Matt had to take some pills.

"That... doesn't sound like a bad idea." Matt's voice drifted over the noise John was making as he searched for a frying pan to whip up some omelettes. John made a face at the cupboard door; yeah, because that would be a fucking _fantastic_ Christmas dinner. He'd take Nakatomi any day over that shit.

"Oh yeah. _Sure_ ," he said. "It's a _great_ idea to have my ex-wife and this guy I'm... _with_ , in the same house as my former in-laws and kids." He went back to searching. Where the fuck was the frying pan with the red thing in the middle, Luce had bought it for him--

"I still say it's a good idea," Matt responded.

"Yeah, good idea for _you_ ," John mumbled under his breath. "You're not gonna be the one talking to Pat about why we went through the divorce. 'None of Holly's brothers and sisters are divorced'," he mimicked Patricia Gennaro's high-pitched voice as he located the elusive pan and tossed it at the stove. "'John, who is this Farrell boy?' I got other things to worry about, kid, trust me on this one."

He continued to gripe... but he smiled as he heard Matt laughing quietly in the bedroom.


End file.
